


scattered verses

by sweetie (Marnie)



Series: FFXV A/B/O AUs [5]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - BDSM, Courtship, Cunnilingus, Dominance, F/M, M/M, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Romance, Submission
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2019-04-13 15:58:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14115840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marnie/pseuds/sweetie
Summary: collection of my unifinished ffxv fics and kink meme fills.





	1. unfinished kink meme fill 1: polyamorous bdsm verse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unfinished fill for a prompt that called for a bdsm verse where people are usually doms or subs and noctis is a switch, which is odd. didn't really like where i was going with this so i didn't finish it--plus someone else said they would fill it so i felt okay with leaving this one alone (usually i don't like to post fills until they're complete and i didn't get far with this one)

1

Luna and her husband, Nyx, are lovely submissives.

Noctis loves working with them—Nyx, who is obedient and giving, and Luna, who is defiant and sweetly repentant when her punishment comes.

Today is no different. Nyx tells on his wife the moment their session begins, detailing how she had brought herself to trembling orgasm several times despite the strict ban on doing so when it was their turn to be serviced for the weak.

“Are you sorry?” Noctis asks. At his feet, Nyx shifts from where he is kneeling. The low buzz of the vibrator pressed against his prostate is loud in the tense silence that follows.

Luna purses her lips. “No.”

Noctis says, “You know what happens when you don’t listen.”

“I do,” Luna begins.

“That wasn’t a question,” Noctis says, calmly interrupting her. “You know what to do.”

So Noctis orders her to suck Nyx to orgasm, and then she is instructed to do the same to him. She’s dripping wet by the time he directs Nyx to fuck her with his fingers, to avoid her clit and stop when he feels like she’s close.

She’s sobbing with frustration by the time he takes a seat at the foot of his bed and bends her over his knee.

“Color?” He asks.

“Green,” she wheezes, “green.”

Nyx has reached out to hold her hand when the spanking starts. She yelps quietly, counting each strike and chittering into Noctis’ thigh when he pauses to brush his nails over her reddened flesh, building anticipation. Noctis has her count twenty strikes, and then asks her if she’s sorry again.

“Yes. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Noctis.”

Nyx, gone hard again, is allowed to fuck her as hard as he likes. Noctis reaches a hand between them, to where they are wet and joined, squeezing Nyx’s throbbing shaft and pinch at Luna’s needy clit. It doesn’t take long before Luna is spasming, toes curling into the mattress below. When they are both satisfied, Noctis jerks himself and watches as the two of them eagerly clean up the mess left behind.

Afterwards, Noctis rubs balm onto the reddened flesh of Luna’s bottom and runs a soothing hand up and down her heaving back. He congratulates her for enduring her punishment. Nyx is praised for good behavior. Noctis scratches his scalp the way Nyx likes and tells him that he gets to choose what they do the next time they have a session together.

The two of them clean up, and Luna’s trembling, pliant body is wiped down as best as they can. They fall into bed and sleep in a puppy pile.

* * *

 

 

2.

Cindy is one of his favorites.

When they are together, he enjoys the little things as much as the big ones. She will give him ridiculous requests just to test his devotion, something that confused him at first. Now he enjoys the anticipation of receiving one task or another. They can spend hours sitting together with him balancing things on his hands. Sometimes he prepares sandwiches for the men who work at her shop. Other times he shines her shoes as she watches. If Cindy catches a mistake, he must start over. Sometimes he messes up on purpose.

She likes to be massaged, a useful skill he learned from Ignis, likes for him to work the kinks and knots out of her muscles until she’s putty under his hands.

On days like today, when the Hammerhead’s load is at its peak and one too many customers has tested her patience, she will curl her finger at him and say,

“On your knees, Prince.”

(She always calls him that. It began as a fond nickname, something she had teasingly called him when they first met as teenagers and her grandfather called Noctis’ dad a “pale-faced old bastard” right to his face. When she calls him Prince in public, it makes the hairs at the base of his neck stand up. She will reach out and pinch at his bottom, or playfully squeeze his arm.)

But when Noctis is on his knees, and she calls him by his title, he knows that he needs to lick her until she tells him to stop.

“You’re gonna eat me out, darlin’. If you can make me cum, I might let you fuck me.” She tells him, shimmying out of those dangerous shorts of hers before settling on her couch. She rarely wears panties, and it’s a thought that is always on the back of his mind when they are together.

He leans in to kiss her mons, breathing in the heady smell of her arousal.

“Can I use my hands?” He asks, cheeks flushing at the gravelly sound of his own voice.

“Since you asked nicely. But don’t try and move me around or you’ll be in trouble.” She answers. It’s not a threat. It’s a promise. Noctis is tempted to disobey, but that’s why he asked to meet her this week.

So she spreads her legs, one hand delving into his hair and curling around the unruly strands. She pulls his face into her wet pussy, moaning languidly when he dips his tongue into her inner folds. She likes to be teased—would have told him if she didn’t feel like it—so he knows that it’s okay to flicker his tongue at her clit before quickly moving down to where she is the most slick.

He rests one hand on her thigh, and with the other he spreads her, exposing her to the air. He blows on her flesh, gratified when it twitches in response.

“You look so good like that, sweetheart. Kneelin’ where I need you.” She purrs.

Noctis leans in, wrapping his lips around the hood of her clit and sucking. She bucks, her fingers tightening in his hair. He stays like this for a while, keeping her spread for his tongue, tracing patterns over her clit. He starts spelling his name, which he knows she will notice. She lets out a breathless laugh and pinches at his shoulder, but she doesn’t push him away or tell him to stop, so he knows she will accept this moment of cheek. He slides a finger inside her, curling it forward, and she sighs in response, legs widening minutely.

If this were Luna, he would grab her hips and pull her close, lift her ass from the bed and keep going until she was sobbing. But this is Cindy, so he settles for the subtle cues in the shifting of her hips and the way she adjusts his head against her, slides another finger inside and pistons them gently until he feels her walls fluttering around him.

“Look at me, Prince. I’m gonna cum,” she tells him.

Noctis looks up at her, humming into her flesh, and she leans up, resting her hands on his shoulders. Soon, she is shuddering under his attentions. When her orgasm takes her, her eyes flutter closed, but Noctis watches. He always watches.

He keeps licking at her flesh until she rests her hand on his forehead and pushes him away. When he sticks his wet fingers into his mouth and licks her slick from his flesh, she coos appreciatively.

“You did so well, sweet boy,” Cindy tells him. She kisses his cheek, where his skin is still sticky from her juices, and then instructs him to lie down on the bed.

She ties him up, fastens a cock ring around him, and rides him to orgasm twice more. When she finally removes the ring, she only has to pump his erection twice before he’s shooting cum out into the air with a pained groan. He is grateful to lick his spend from her delicate fingers.


	2. unfinished kink meme fill 2: alpha prompto and omega noctis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unfinished fill for a kink meme request that called for alpha prompto/omega noctis spending noctis' heat together. i didn't finish this because i could feel myself going overboard and every time i started over i didn't like what i wrote lol. and for some reason it's really hard for me to write prompto's pov  
> this is the only part that survived because i like the moment between them but yeah!

Prompto knows Noctis’ heat is truly settling in when he starts craving vegetables. 

Noctis hates vegetables and is a spoiled brat about his food on a good day, but even he doesn’t have the will to overcome his body’s natural inclination towards making sure he doesn’t die when he falls into heat. Whenever his heat is near, he gets achy, he craves beets and tomatoes and green beans, and he whines. It’s like clockwork.

So when Noctis burrows into his side and says, “I want, like, broccoli or something,” Prompto presses his hand to back of Noctis’ neck. 

As he was expecting, Noctis melts under the touch, a subhuman purr rattling in his chest, and Prompto says, “Well, yeah, you _are_ going into heat."

Noctis huffs a tired breath into Prompto's neck. "I don't want that to be happening."

Prompto can't help but laugh at that--the utter defeat in Noctis' voice. 

"Don't laugh at me, peasant," Noctis says, shoving at his chest. 

His lips are pursed like he's trying not to smile, though, and there is nothing but fondness in his voice, so Prompto pulls him close and rains kisses on his warm face until Noctis is laughing and punching his shoulder.

 

 

 

 


	3. older omega noctis/alpha ardyn au

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idea was for an au where ardyn is a high ranking official who is very smitten with notctis, and also keen on gaining clout in the political world. was supposed to be a worldbuildy, intrigue-y sexy harlequin romance kinda fic, but i felt like it was cheesy and i didn't like where i went when i tried to rewrite it. but i like the idea, so i kept it. maybe i'll rehash it one day. 
> 
> i was too fuckign embarrassed to include the placeholder title, which is "the spinster prince". i was really feeling that harlequin romance thing. god

The new month begins for Noctis at twelve in the morning, tending to a veritable mountain of paperwork. With it, another marriage proposal from Lord Ardyn Izunia also arrives.

 

“Have you given it thought, Majesty?” Ignis asks.

 

His expression would be unreadable to one who didn’t know what to look for. To Noctis, who knows the furrow between his brow and the displeased tilt of his lips, he appears troubled. Ignis, logical Ignis, has likely puzzled out the advantages and such a marriage and found that they outweigh the risks.

 

“Do you think I should?” Noctis answers his advisor’s question with a question of his own. Ignis quirks a small smile at him, and perches himself on the King’s desk. His smell is comfortingly familiar--warm spice, with the heady undertone of a healthy Alpha in his prime. Anyone would be lucky to have him as a mate, Noctis muses, and not for the first time. His blindness has kept many eligible omegas from pursuing him, despite his obvious virtues. There is a pang of longing in his chest, which he disregards as the last few dregs of his teenaged crush. He is a boy no longer. 

 

“I believe you should think on it later. It is very late, and your heat approaches.” 

 

“Does it?” Noctis asks, with a hint of genuine surprise.

 

Ignis chuckles, and Noctis flushes as he lets out a sheepish laugh of his own. There is no living soul in the Citadel that knows him better than Ignis, save perhaps Gladiolus and Prompto. Having been raised with him it does not surprise Noctis that Ignis can smell the hints of pre-heat on him. He wonders if the others can smell it as well, and then why he’s never thought of it before.

 

“Yes, your Majesty. Would you like for me to cook something for you? Something to soothe your belly before bed?” Ignis stands as he speaks, crossing his arms over his chest. 

 

“Please,” Noctis answers. Thinking again, he calls out for his advisor. With his hand on the door, Ignis looks at him over his shoulder. “What are your thoughts on Lord Izunia?”

 

Ignis toys with the hem of his sleeves--something he does when attempting to organize his thoughts.

 

“Permission to speak freely?”

 

“Granted.”

 

“I don’t much like him. However, all evidence points to him being a dedicated worker. His influence has benefited Niflheim. He would do well in your office. Considering Lucian tradition, he would not be able to cede your power from you. He also seems healthy enough for his age.” Ignis coughs and adjusts his glasses with these last words.

 

Flushing, Noctis looks down at the trade manifests he had been reviewing before his advisor’s arrival. “Thank you, Ignis. That will be all.”

 

Think on it, Ignis said. He can do that. In the meantime, Noctis muses, staring down at the perfumed envelope before him, it can’t hurt to enjoy the attention for a while. His father died when Noctis was young, Six bless him, leaving him to rush headlong into his duty as king at the tender age of nineteen. He hadn’t had the time to be young, not really. Suitors had not been few and far between, but Noctis has always been independent and content enough with the friends he had. He had a country to lead. Romance wasn’t a viable option. His steadfast refusal to marry young had gained him the pejorative nickname of the Spinster Prince, despite his station as king. He thinks of it as something like a badge of honor, now.

 

He opens the envelope, fragrant with Chancellor Izunia’s scent (how had he done that?), and begins to read.

 

Before Chancellor Izunia, Princess Lunafreya was the only person Noctis had ever written to long-term. Nowadays, he looks forward to receiving his letters, often arriving with Niflheim sweets or some other unnecessarily thoughtful gift.

* * *

_ Dear King Noctis, _

 

_ The days pass, and I find myself thinking of your last letter quite often. Before I answer your question, I must ask--what do you think of the chocolates? Most find them quite distasteful, because of their bitterness. However, I thought the flavor would prove interesting to you. _

 

_ On to the topic at hand. I have proposed a marriage simply because it is advantageous to the both of us. I must confess something to you: I am neither a native of Niflheim nor overly fond of it, and I would be happy enough to aid you in your duties as king. As the years draw on, I find myself in want of both a family and a place to call home. It is likely that I am older than you think I am, and I would quite enjoy spending my last few years contented. You will gain my council--keep in mind that I have a unique perspective on Niflheim and its inner workings--and I shall gain a family. _

  
  


_ I imagine your advisors are grilling you fiercely on marriage options as your birthday draws near. Allow me the honor of calling you my husband. _

 

_ P.S: To answer your other questions: I would not expect you to rid yourself of your retainers. As for my interest in you? I have been smitten with you for quite some time. We once spoke of politics and history while Lady Lunafreya was being ordained. You were well into your cups, so it does not surprise me that you don’t remember, but our conversation was enlightening. _

* * *

 

“Your Highness, there is the matter of your marriage.” 

 

“You mean the lack thereof.” Noctis sighs, displeased.

 

Without fail, every meeting of the council turns to his status. The older and vaguely superstitious council fears that his window of fertility is closing. He would like to remind them that he is as fertile at age twenty-five as he was at seventeen, and he feels it with every heat he suffers through on his own.

 

Councilor Jorah sets his jaw, visibly uncomfortable. “There have been many proposals from suitable matches. Perhaps the most agreeable option would suit you--” He begins.

 

“Nonsense,” says Lady Haris. “The king cannot simply throw himself at the most appealing Alpha to send him missives. If his Majesty is to be married, the deal must be both agreeable and advantageous, so that it is to the benefit of Lucis.”

 

“Unlikely!” Councilor Uriah booms, a vein throbbing on his high forehead.

 

“Queen Hestia of Yoruno made an offer. Is she not suitable enough?” Says the newest councilor, a mousy Beta whose name escapes Noctis each day.

 

“She is uncouth and knows little of restraint. It is a wonder she was not seen tussling with the scullery maids this past rut season!” Councilor Uriah dismisses him with a wave. He is nothing if not a purebreed of old blood.

 

Noctis pinches the bridge of his nose. Standing off to his side, Gladio snorts underneath his breath.

 

“ _ You’d think you were a prized filly up for sale. _ ” He mutters. 

 

Noctis hates the way his lips twist in begrudging humor, but his Shield has a point. The decision will be up to him, ultimately, but he will never hear the end of it if he makes any major political movements without heavy consultation first. Catching sight of his amusement, Gladio smiles at him. He is not as young as he used to be, neither of them are. His warm brown eyes crinkle in amusement, with a few more lines than he remembers, and Noctis suddenly wistful for their younger days. 

 

He is very tired.

 

“Lord Izunia has been quite persistent in his interests. With the pressures from Niflheim at an all-time high, a marriage could be a step in the right direction.” A soft voice cuts through the passionate argument filling the room. Lady Allara is a quiet, pragmatic Beta. Generally, Noctis appreciates her honesty and intelligent ideas, but tonight the implication behind her words simply puts a frown on his face. 

 

“Elaborate, please, Allara.” Noctis urges her. His words cause several shocked eyes to turn on him.

 

“He is adept at diplomatic maneuvers. My contacts say that he has done much to improve the state of affairs in Niflheim. Considering how unfit Emperor Aldercapt has become these past few years, a betrothal could soothe tensions. Once Emperor Aldercapt’s son takes his place, maybe a new era for our nations can begin.”

 

“I see. Thank you, Allara.” Noctis hums, looking down at his hands. 

 

“It couldn't hurt to consider it.” Lady Haris says, haltingly, like it physically pains her to do so.

 

Several words of agreement ring out. He adjourns the meeting with a promise to think about his prospects. His ever faithful Shield sits with him as the Council leaves, whispering amongst themselves. 

 

“You alright, Prince?” Gladiolus asks. The title is little more than a nickname between the two of them, shared only in the privacy of knowledgeable company.

 

“As all right as I’ll ever be,” Noctis replies, and then he winces at the turning of his stomach. “Could you escort me to my quarters?”

 

Gladio nods in understanding, eyes, sympathetic. He clasps one of Noctis’ hands with his own, and the other presses into his back. Noctis is hit with the strong urge to press his nose into the crook of his neck and breathe deep. Pre-heat is upon him. He needs Prompto. 

 

“He’ll be there.” Gladio soothes him, hand warm on the small of his back. Noctis flushes when he realized he spoke aloud.

 

It had taken a lot for the royal advisors to allow a commoner to serve as Noctis’ retainer, but his father had silenced them with a tired word. Prompto’s training, in the early days, had been spent with the two of them snickering like school children as Cor scolded them, but it worked out well enough in the end--well enough that Prompto has been at his side for nearly seven years.

 

“You’re not lookin’ too hot,” Prompto tells Noctis as he enters their shared quarters. He’s laid out on Noctis’ plush bedding, phone in hand. Noctis faceplants onto the bed beside him, feeling like he’s a step away from crawling out of his skin.

 

“Shut up and come here.” Noctis grumbles. 

 

His friend crawls over on all fours and then sprawls himself out on Noctis’ back. He lets out a contented hum and melts into the mattress, the comforting pressure easing the ache in his temples. He will allow the world say what it will about Alphas being a comfort--for Noctis, nothing is quite like the scent of a familiar Omega to soothe his mind.

 

“That bad, huh?” Prompto is saying, reaching up to stroke at Noctis’ hair, fingertips whisper-soft on his scalp.

 

“Mmmmmm.” He sighs, well and truly purring when Prompto nips at his scent glands.

 

Prompto laughs, rolls onto his side, and pulls Noctis into his front. His hands are warm on Noctis’ aching belly, and before long he’s drifted off into a fussy doze. Every time the hazy little dreams his brain conjures up end abruptly, he gives a start, but ultimately, Prompto quiets him with a soft word.

 

“They want me to get married, you know?” Noctis says, once it becomes clear that his body isn’t going to let him sleep for long.

 

Prompto hums in understanding. “Well. I mean, you can’t really continue the Lucis line without one or two royal kiddos kicking around to take your place some day.”

 

“I do like kids,” Noctis admits, feeling far older than he really is.

 

“You do like kids.” Prompto says, indulgent.

 

“I just don’t like any of the people I could have them with.”

 

Prompto’s laugh shakes the both of them. “What about Lady Lunafreya? She’s sweet, and you two get on like a house on fire.”

 

“Ugh, not like  _ that _ .”

 

“You could always marry Iggy or Gladio. That’s allowed, isn’t it?” Prompto asks.

 

He has a point, and it isn’t as though they haven’t helped him through his heats before.

 

“I mean, yeah, but it’s frowned upon. Like, a lot. Besides, the Council is talking about having me marry Chancellor Izunia.”

 

“That guy? But he’s so  _ oily _ !” Prompto cries, sounding equal parts amused and disgusted.

 

“Gods, yeah. He is.” Noctis’ eyes flutter closed, but the hilarity of Prompto’s reaction has full-bodied chuckles rolling through him.

 

Prompto laughs along with him. When their amusement subsides, his friend nips at Noctis’ gland once again, playful and comforting. “If this were another world--if I were, like, an Alpha and not a total peasant, I’d marry you, Noct. I’d marry you so hard.”

 

“Thanks, Prom. I appreciate that.” Noctis snorts.

 

He really does, and he also wishes his magic had the power to make it so.

 

Prompto eventually convinces him to shower. He’s indolent and exhausted, allowing his friend to bathe and dry and dress him as he wishes. He isn’t able to sleep at all that night, but he enjoys stroking at Prompto’s hair as the blond sleeps. There are worse things than this.

 

* * *

 

_ King Noctis, _

 

_ I am quite pleased to receive word from you. After my request for a meeting was met with such a curt reply, I assumed my advances were unappreciated. _

 

_ Let me make myself clear. I have no intentions of usurping your throne or acting in an ungentlemanly manner towards you. I would write more on this, but this is rather hard to prove over letters. Please, let us meet in the coming days if you should find yourself with a bit of free time.  
_

 

\-----

 

Chancellor Izunia is as obnoxiously chivalrous as ever when they meet. He takes Noctis' proferred hand and dips into a bow, pressing a lingering kiss onto the back of it. Noctis' gloves shield him from feeling the Chancellor's lips, but there is a tender warmth where the pink flesh lingers, and it tingles when he pulls away. He does not release Noctis' hand.

"It is good to see you once again, Your Majesty," he purrs. 

"Likewise," Noctis replies, surprising himself with just how much he means it. 

Behind them, Gladio lets out a pointed cough. Ardyn squeezes Noctis' hand and places himself at a barely respectable distance. 

"Shall we?" Ardyn asks, arms making a sweeping gesture towards the gardens. 

He has certainly learned his way around from past visits, but he is a lower ranking offical and wouldn't dare walk in front of Noctis. It would be a show of upmost disrepesct if he did, a commoner Alpha who weasled his way to the top daring to lead an omega of royal blood. Even if they were to court and marry, it would never be appropriate for him to walk ahead of Noctis. 

Bashful at his own train of thought, Noctis nods and moves forward. 

Ardyn has set up a small picnic basket at one of the benches tucked behind the tall bushes Noctis' mother loved. Gladio tactfull stands guard where he is in sigh, but unlikely to overhear their conversation.

To Noctis' surprise, Ardyn does not ask about marriage. They speak about the court over sandwiches and grapes and cheese, with chilled water to wash it down. Ardyn amuses him with outlandish tales of the Nifleheim court--about Emperor Aldercapt and his ridiculous demands, about the Alpha son he has that no one cares much about. Noctis tells him about how his mother loved and cultivated these gardens, and how he comes here when he wants to think.

"And what do you think about, Your Majesty?" 

The question surprises him so much that Noctis answers honestly. "I think about having a family."

Ardyn meets his eyes with raised brows--a show of genuine surprise. There's amusesment in his handsome face, and something like a question in his eyes.

"I could give you one." He says, at length, reaching out to touch. He pauses, as if giving Noctis a chance to move away. He doesn't. Pre-heat is never kind to him.

"I know you could. I just don't know why you want to. I know you have an ulterior motive, and I'm not sure I care about it." And that isn't good.

"That's fair." Ardyn chuckles.

Noctis ducks his head, feeling strangely and suddenly exposed.

He tucks a lock of hair behind Noctis' ear, and tilts Noctis' face up with two fingers under his chin. "But do not doubt that above all, I want you. In every way imaginable."

Gladio finds them sharing their first kiss.

 

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more soon!


	4. abo promptis alternate universe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idea was actually inspired by final fantasy x, in which (seventeen year spoiler aleart) noctis travels to another dimension a la tidus, but notis is a real boy. lol 
> 
> basically the idea was for noct being sent to another dimension by the astrals as a half-assed apology for saving the world so like... he couldn't stay in the eos WE knew because of the prophecy but he was sent to another dimension with slightly different versions of people he loved and he made a life for himself checking up on them to see how they do without the prophecy and war hanging over their heads but he was with prompto in the other world and couldn't resist getting back with Prompto and building the family they've always wanted 
> 
> AND of course there's a/b/o dynamics because that's been my most recent obsession lol. but this time it was going to play a part with like. politicians using their genders against them. 
> 
> so the idea was things aren't as bad on eos that was in that, the planet isn't in danger of fucking dying, but political relations are turning sour and prompto is a journalist who is covering stories and somehow realizes that his husband is Not Who He Said He Was and that politicians are trying to distract the people from their Corrupt Doings

0

The stranger catches Prompto with a gentle hand on his forearm when he tries to leave the diner.

Prompto can immediately feel his heart drop—he’s not the subtlest person, never has been, but he’d really been trying to hide his fascination. He was a photographer, through and through, and he enjoyed capturing moments and beauty and the quiet moments others experienced, when their guards were down and they weren’t thinking of what sort of mask to display to the world.

Prompto travels on the regular and he knows this area well. He’d gotten a kiss on the cheek from the granddaughter of the mechanic of the shop, a friend, fellow omega, and one of his favorite models. The friendlier Alphas of the countryside had teasingly asked after his relationships, which he’d brushed off with weak laughter and a brandished camera, which they gladly posed for.  
He _knows_ this area. He doesn’t know this man. He would remember this man. He took photos for the express purpose of remembering this man.

Though he’s not that much taller than Prompto, he’s unmistakably Alpha, from the strong slope of his shoulders and the regal shape of his face. He has a soft sort of look to him, and when he approaches Prompto with a small smile on his face Prompto can just tell that he’s a gentle enough person, maybe even docile, with a pleasantly spicy scent and a soothing, scratchy tenor.

“I’m sorry,” Prompto blurts, “I’m a photographer. You have a nice face. I can delete those photos.”

And the stranger just laughs, sounding somehow confused and affectionate all in one. “I was just going to ask if I could see them.”

So they find a seat outside. The sun is shedding purple and golden light over the chrome of the Hammerhead as it sets, and Prompto pauses to capture that, too, before he sheepishly hands his camera over to the stranger. When their fingertips brush, he chokes back a whimper at the warmth radiating from the man’s calloused fingertips.

He’s got the sort of face that ages like fine wine, Prompto thinks—he can’t be a day over thirty, surely, but there’ a story to the cut of his jaw and the calm light in his dark eyes, to the light dusting of facial hair that’s on his pale skin, like he’s missed a day of shaving and hasn’t thought to rectify it yet.

“Wow. You made me look kind of handsome.” The stranger laughs.

“Nah. I just enhanced your look. Anyone can look good with some clever lighting and angles, see? You took a seat by the window, so all I had to do was find a good place to sit, and bam! Money shot. Kind of hard with us being in a diner and all that. Also, you kept moving a lot? But I didn’t need to… do much of the enhancement stuff with… you…” Prompto trails off as the stranger smiles down at him, amusement and genuine interest mixed, and all of a sudden he’s hyperaware of his gender and just how much he’s talking.

“What’s your name?” The stranger asks.

“Prompto. Prompto Argentum. What’s yours?” Prompto sputters.

“Noctis. Noctis Lucis Fidem. It’s nice to meet you.”

* * *

 

They go on a date within a week.

* * *

 

A week turns into a month turns into months turns into a year. Another year follows, and Noctis drops to his knees and proposes while they’re taking a morning hike to get a good shot. He's pregnant within a month. His parents are visibly scandalized--they have never been adept at hiding their emotions--but do their best to be accomodating.

* * *

 

 

1

As he’s getting set up for his first official position, Prompto’s new boss makes her way to his little desk and watches as he sets up his space.

“Who’s this?” She asks, of a photo he’d taken himself.

In the photo, his daughter sits perched on a chair made specifically for her. Her smile seems to be aimed specifically at the viewer. Prompto is almost irrationally proud of the cute braid he’d pulled her hair into, resting on the slope of her relaxed shoulders.

“That’s my daughter. Isn’t she cute?”

“You sure?” Prompto’s boss asks, an incredulous laugh leaving her lips. “Comparing the two of you is like comparing night and day.”

Prompto had disliked his boss immediately upon meeting her, and he’s still not a fan of her. She’s the type of Alpha who makes physical displays of her power, as if it wasn’t obvious enough where her place in the world was by her strong scent alone. When she’d found out he was married and had a child, she’d made an off handed comment about how surprising that was considering his age, but then again, it was best to start young and didn’t he agree? He’d also done a great job of losing the baby weight.

However, he can’t help but grant her this moment: Circe looks so much like her father it hurts him sometimes, but in a good way—only from loving the both so much.

The little girl in the photo has dark, angular eyes and thick black hair, and the shy tilt of her smile is the exact replica of her father’s own. What she has of Prompto comes in mannerisms. It’s in the way she’s never quite still, it’s in the endless faith she has in the goodness of others, and it’s in how excitable she is. Anything from an oddly-colored bug to a friendly chocobo would have her head spinning.

“You should see her dad.” Prompto tells her, and he rummages through his box and with a triumphant little noise presents her with a photo of his husband.

He’s standing tall, fishing rod in hand, with his hand on his hip. He looks younger when he shaves, which is what Prompto prefers. It makes him think of the childhood Noctis must have had, to make him as subdued as he is. It is both sad and lovely. Maybe it is because of his photographer's eye, but it is hard not to notice, even captured in time.

“Oh, wow. Yeah, that makes sense. He must be a purebred Alpha, then?” She asks, brows raised.

And it occurs to Prompto at once that he doesn’t rightly know. As much as he and Noctis love and trust each other, he doesn’t know much about his husband’s past. He has a vague idea, of course: a strained relationship with a father who asked too much, an unnamed trauma that had pushed him from his home. To Prompto, Noctis is Noctis as he’s known him for the past six years: sweet and supportive, a loving stay-at-home father, with a wry but gentle sort of humor that had bled into their daughter’s own personality.

So he just says, “He is, yeah,” and ducks his head into what he hopes is a convincingly shy-sounding laugh.

His boss smiles at him. It’s not wide or pleasant, but surprisingly enough, it eases some of the tension that had been lacing its way into his shoulders without him noticing.

“Well, Prompto Fidem. Welcome to Atlantis magazine. Hope we’ll be having you around for some time.”

He murmurs a farewell. As she walks away, he rotates his wedding ring by habit. Its colors—a soothing blue-black outlined in gold—have always calmed his nerves considerably.

* * *

 

As time passes, Prompto notices that his coworkers are somewhat amused by him.

He’s the only omega on staff who’s not in a support position. He’s a photographer, and he’s a writer, and he takes pride in his craft—had done freelance for years to build his resume before he’d applied for this job.

His coworkers are fascinated by his little family, and the fact that his Alpha husband stays at home and cares for their child. Doesn’t he miss them, they want to know. Doesn’t he feel like he’s missing out on important moments in his daughter’s life?

He tells them that he loves and misses them the moment he steps out of the door, and yes a little bit but his husband knows how to work a camera and they have an operational phone, and considers adding that he doesn’t have to give up on his dreams because he has a family.

* * *

 

Noctis seems a little worried about the whole thing.

“Is there anything I can do?” He asks.

His voice is as warm as it usually is, and Prompto lets out a dreamy sigh as he sinks into their soft bed, his husband running large, calloused hands over his tense shoulders.

“Shut up, dork. You’re probably doing more than I am right now. It’s not like they’ve given me any assignments other than editing other people’s writing.”

Noctis scoffs in mock affront, and Prompto grins at him over his shoulder.

“How dare you imply that I’m doing anything other than sleeping when I have the chance?” He says, pitching his voice comically low.

"Because I have eyes in the back of my head. Mom scope, babe." Prompto answers.

Noctis rolls his eyes, pulling Prompto closer by his hips.

* * *

Prompto makes exactly one friend at work. 

She's an Alpha woman, beautiful and strong, and she has a habit of worming her way into Prompto's space. Her name is Aranea, and she's refreshingly honest without being unkind. She is always asking this or that question about his methods, about his life before moving here to the capital, about his little family. They discover their shared history by accident.

"Well, if you want to get technical, I'm from Nifleheim," Prompto says, in the middle of an explanation of what inspires his personal photography--all washed industrialism juxtaposed with the brightness of the parts of their planet that have escaped urban human sprawl.

"No shit?" Aranea says. "Me, too."

"What part are you from?" Prompto asks, his eyebrows climbing up his forehead. "I'm from Nibelheim."

"I'm from Gralea--a city brat. I've never heard of Nibelheim, but it sounds like a country-ass town. You can always tell if they've stuck onto the old naming conventions." Aranea laughs.

Prompto chuckles. "I was adopted when I was, like, seven. I don't remember much of it, but I was living in an orphanage and the sisters would always send us outside to play. So, uh, yeah. That's where my style comes from."

Aranea plucks one of his photos from his desk and makes an appreciative noise.

"I can kinda see it now. That's clever. I think--" and here she glances at him, "--the boss did a good job hiring you. Even if she meant to be kinda mean about it at first."

  
Prompto leaves work that day with a blanket invitation to visit her home and enjoy her husband's cooking. From the photos, he's a handsome young man with glasses and the kind of refind facial structure that vaguely reminds him of Noctis.

 

* * *

 

 It's Aranea's omega husband, Ignis, who opens the door. He's wearing an apron and there's a smear of flower on one high cheekbone, but he still manages to look elegant.

Prompto had been struggling with his bag, had passed a dozing Circe over to be held, so he missed the moment Noctis froze, but he just manages to pick up the choked sound he lets out.

The line of Noctis' back is stiff, and Circe shifts and snuffles in his grip, her brows furrowed.

Prompto isn't sure who to reach out for, so he settles for smoothing Circe's dark hair back from her forehead and then rubbing a circle into Noctis' back.

"Is everything alright?" Ignis asks. His accent is pure Tenebrae, and Prompto's not the best at accents but it sounds upper class. If things weren't so odd, he'd be charmed by it.

"Sorry. You just--look a whole lot like someone I used to know. Wanna start over?"

"Of course. Ignis Highwind, a pleasure to meet you."

He offers a hand for Noctis to shake, which he does after shifting Circe to the crook of one arm. Prompto can feel the tension bleed out of his body from where his hand rests on Noctis' back.

"Noctis Fidem. Uh, likewise."

Ignis ushers them inside, and as he passes Aranea, he gives her a kiss on the cheek, which she absentmindedly returns. Noctis tenses again, but it passes quickly this time.

"You the husband? What a pretty boy." Aranea laughs.

Noctis says, " _Hey_ ," but there's no heat in it, and when Aranea offers her hand he shakes it with the same confidence he had when he took Ignis' hand.

Aranea peers at their daughter, who is well and truly asleep now--and Prompto remembers being just as sleep as a kid, but it worries him sometimes--and smiles. "Cute kid."

"Thanks," Prompto says, near wincing at the volume of his own voice. "I made that."

Aranea grins. "You have a knack for making good things."

Noctis grins over his shoulder at that. For a moment, things feel normal again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anyways i didn't finish this because my third eye isn't open wide enough to write smart things. i'm a sun in lazy, moon in easily distracted, and a rising dumb bitch. 
> 
> thx for reading, more soon (a string of long-winded smut fics i abandoned hahahah. some a/b/o, some not, some f/f and m/f, and m/m and multi stuff.... i've been so into ffxv for like the past few months lol)


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